


Unconventional Meetings

by ostentatiouslyrealistic



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Classical Music, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Slow Burn, Volleyball, contrasting passions
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-11
Updated: 2016-12-30
Packaged: 2018-08-30 07:39:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8524306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ostentatiouslyrealistic/pseuds/ostentatiouslyrealistic
Summary: Both lives are changed when Oikawa Tooru stumbles, quite literally, into Iwaizumi Hajime's practice room.





	1. Un Sospiro

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which Oikawa has no idea what he's gotten himself into.

A breathy sigh.

That's what Oikawa Tooru first hears as he passes by one of the practice rooms in the music hall, papers gripped in both hands as he makes his way towards the professor's office. He stops, head cocked towards the melody as it wraps itself around his lithe body and curls itself into his mind, warming his chest. Forgetting his purpose, he steps closer to the source of the music and peeks in through the slightly open door.

The first thing he sees is a head of prickly dark hair. The next is his hands.

They float across the black and white keys as his body waves slightly with the music, his head occasionally coming up for a breath and falling with a sigh when the music asks for the slight decrescendo. The delicacy of his fingers don't escape Oikawa's notice—the way they press lightly onto the keys and the way they suddenly change, becoming more dynamic when the melody sings. Oikawa's frozen, enraptured by the way the musician weaves delicacy into his music, as if his hands are gently cradling the music, coaxing the song to life as a lullaby.

And suddenly, the music ends.

Just like that, Oikawa's thrown back into reality, releasing a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. Shaking his head in awe, he turns back toward the hall. Trying not to make his footsteps noticeable, he attempts to stay quiet, lifting a foot—

And trips sideways.

Hands desperately grabbing at _anything_ , his body slams into the door and the pile of paper fly out of his hands. He groans, both hands covering his face as the papers flutter around him like freshly fallen snow. Sitting up, he peeks through his fingers to find the culprit: one of his shoelaces had come untied.

"What the fuck?"

\--

Iwaizumi's eyes narrow as they make contact with the stranger now sitting in the room, papers falling in a heap around him. The stranger snaps his head towards him and grins sheepishly.

"I tripped," he laughs as his hand rubs the back of his neck. "But I'm ok!"

He kneels and starts to pick up the fallen papers, and Iwaizumi gets off the bench to help. Shuffling the papers into a pile, he straightens them and hands them to the stranger.

"What song was that?" he suddenly blurts. Iwaizumi furrows his brows.

"You were listening?"

The stranger looks at the papers in his hands, and his cheeks flush lightly. Chuckling, Iwaizumi hands over some more papers, surprised he's not annoyed at the stranger like he would be with other intruders. Perhaps it's because the stranger looks adorably flustered. He wonders in the back of his head when he's become so shallow.

"It's Un Sospiro by Liszt," he answers with ease, and the stranger looks up with excitement in his chocolate colored eyes. They both stand, Iwaizumi noticing that the stranger is a little taller than him, and the stranger gives him a broad smile. Holding all the papers to his chest with one arm, the stranger throws out a hand and exclaims, "I'm Oikawa Tooru."

The name is all too familiar, and Iwaizumi becomes a little more guarded. Oikawa Tooru—a name known throughout the school. Known as the captain of the university's volleyball team, Oikawa is also known to have a large fan base with some aggressive fans.

Taking the hand, he gives it a firm shake and introduces himself, "Iwaizumi Hajime."

"Ah! Nice to meet you Iwaizumi-san!" Oikawa exclaims, staring at him curiously, and Iwaizumi nods.

 _Actually, I think we have literature together—or was it Intro to Musicality_ , he thinks. He looks down at their still joined hands and releases his grip. Oikawa starts a bit and exclaims, "I forgot! I was supposed to deliver these!"

Giving Iwaizumi a broad smile with a wink and a peace sign, Oikawa turns on his heels and heads out of the door.

"See you some time, Iwaizumi-san!"

\--

"Oi, are you gonna eat that?" a voice breaks Oikawa's train of thought, and he looks up to see Hanamaki pointing at the milk bread sitting on his lap. Snatching up the bag, he holds it protectively to his chest and childishly scoots away from the potential thief.

"Hmpf, buy your own milk bread," he says while reaching in to tear out a piece and popping it into his mouth. Hanamaki shrugs and reaches down to shovel more rice into his mouth. Oikawa chews slowly and ignores the sight, instead pointedly staring anywhere else in the lounge. Soon, his thoughts drift off and he finds himself wishing he could listen to the pianist play again.

His thoughts are interrupted again when the door to the room slams open, revealing a tired Matsukawa. Making his way over, he gently places his violin case on the ground before hazardously plopping himself in front of his two friends.

"Sensei kept me late _again_ ," he complains as he unwraps his bento. Not unlike Hanamaki, he starts shoving rice into his mouth rapidly.

"Can you please eat with your mouth closed?" Oikawa asks, nose scrunching with disgust.

"Refet tht ps," Matsukawa garbles, choking slightly when a grain of rice flies down the wrong pipe. Hanamaki snorts and pounds Matsukawa's back.

"How am I friends with you two?" Oikawa sighs and slumps over. Hanamaki smirks.

"You know you love us," he coos while leaning in close, and the brown haired young man leans back, nose scrunching in disgust.

"Rejected."

Matsukawa snickers, slinging an arm over Hanamaki, and whispers loudly, "It's ok, babe. At least you have me." They both smirk at each other before turning back to Oikawa, who's staring at his milk bread with intense interest.

"What's gotten into you today?" Hanamaki asks, his tone lighthearted, hiding the concern underneath. "You're not your normal 'Oikawa Tooru' self."

Oikawa squawks indignantly, "What's that supposed to mean?" Hanamaki and Matsukawa lean in simultaneously.

"You know—

"Loud—

"Talkative—

"Annoying—

"Irritating—

"Obnoxious—

"Rude!" Oikawa pouts, and Hanamaki grins, "See, there he is again."

There's a moment of silence before—

"Hey, Mattsun," Oikawa starts. Both Hanamaki and Matsukawa look up at the hesitation in his tone. "You're in the music department—do you know any pianists?"

"Yup," he says, and Oikawa sees his two friends glance at each other. "Why?"

"Then do you know Iwaizumi Hajime?"

Matsukawa snorts. "Yeah, I do."

Oikawa raises an eyebrow when he doesn't elaborate. Suddenly, the door opens again, and the three turn. Normally, it's just the three of them in there at this time, so who could it be?

The question is answered when a head of prickly dark hair makes his way through into the area.

\--

"Hey, Matsukawa, do you have my score for Romance?" Iwaizumi stares at him for a moment before noticing the other two sitting on the couches.

"Are you making a move on my man?" Hanamaki gasps dramatically, and Matsukawa snorts. Iwaizumi rolls his eyes. "The one by Dvorak."

Matsukawa yawns before digging through his folder. He looks up, "Which one?"

"Opus 11," Iwaizumi answers him, fingers tapping on his legs. He glances at a tuff of brown hair and realizes it's Oikawa, who's currently staring at him. Iwaizumi lifts his hand in greeting, and Oikawa's face breaks into a large smile, too blinding, too bright.

"Oh," Matsukawa pipes up at seeing the interaction, "Iwaizumi, Oikawa was just asking about you." Iwaizumi raises a brow while Oikawa squawks and attempts to shove a large chunk of milk bread down Matsukawa's throat.

"Why wouldn't you share with me?" Hanamaki complains loudly as Matsukawa chokes.

"Look at the time! We better get to class!" Oikawa exclaims as he stares down at the nonexistent watch on his wrist, and Iwaizumi mentally declares that the volleyball captain is an idiot. He rolls his eyes a little at the display and moves closer to the trio. He notices Matsukawa glance briefly between him and Oikawa before handing him the small pile of paper.

"Thanks," he says, turning on his heel, and frowns at the crumpled edges of the score. He makes a small noise of disapproval and smooths the paper out, futilely trying to save it before giving up and sighing. He opens the door and steps out, keeping a hand on the surface to keep it from slamming shut. Though muffled he hears Hanamaki ask, "What was that all about?"

Oikawa gives a muted reply and suddenly Hanamaki yelps, their banter unheard as the door finally clicks shut.

Iwaizumi shakes his head when he realizes that he's smiling fondly, and thoughts of idiocy are evaporated when his mind is filled again with miles upon miles of little black dots hanging on their staff, waiting to be sung and presented to the world.

He sighs again.

There's work to be done.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WAHHH, I started my longer piece hehe. I'm not sure how long this'll be, but it's got quite a lot of thought in it laterrrrr. Also! I'm at shrimpyboke.tumblr.com, so drop by to say hi :D


	2. Romance, opus 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Iwaizumi needs Matsukawa to practice.

"He was so fucking weird," Iwaizumi grunts as he benches the weight. A large man leans over him, Cheshire grin slicing across his face.

"Was he hot though?" he asks, and Iwaizumi snorts loudly, nearly dropping the barbell.

"Only you would ask that, Kuroo. Only you," Iwaizumi mutters, and Kuroo shrugs, leering grin never leaving his face. Iwaizumi sighs and sets the barbell down, sitting up and using the towel around his neck to wipe off the sweat. He hisses as he flexes his fingers, making sure they're still in one piece.

"You really should be more careful. Can't have you crushing your hand," Kuroo teases, though the underlying concern isn't lost on his friend. Iwaizumi shakes his head and slumps forward, leaning his head into his hands.

"Thanks for your concern, but you wouldn't call him hot if you knew who he was—it was Oikawa," he mutters, the sound muffled by his position and his hands. Kuroo leans forward, cupping his ear, "What was that?"

"I said," Iwaizumi lifts his head, staring ahead, "It was Oikawa."

Kuroo rears back, eyes widening in surprise.

"Oikawa Tooru?"

Iwaizumi nods. Kuroo snorts and says, "You mean Oikawa Tooru, captain of our volleyball team. Just your luck, man."

He punches Iwaizumi in the shoulder, shoving him aside, "Hey, spot me." Iwaizumi rolls his eyes and swipes his water bottle from the ground before standing up. Taking a large gulp, he nearly chokes as the man himself strides into the gym.

"Yoo hoo! Tetsu and oh?" Oikawa asks, eyes lighting up. Kuroo groans and sets the barbell down before sitting up. He ruffles his atrocious bed hair before glaring up through his bangs, "What do you want, Oikawa?"

"What's my middle blocker doing with a fine arts student?"

Kuroo looks over at Iwaizumi before addressing his captain, "He's my gym buddy. What do you want? Did you want to reminisce our time together freshman year?" Iwaizumi snorts, memory flashing back to when Kuroo would come back into their room and complain about an ostentatious asshole on the team. Oikawa's nose scrunches, and he shakes his head, "I'd rather not."

Kuroo shrugs, "Your loss."

Oikawa turns his gaze onto Iwaizumi, "Iwaizumi-san! Or well, that name's a bit hard to say, isn't it? It's quite a mouthful. I'll have to think of a different name for you."

Kuroo leans in close to the prickly haired young man and whispers, "Don't worry about it. He literally does it to everyone—gives them the most disgusting nicknames." Oikawa ignores this and places his hand on his chin, thinking out loud.

"Hm, Iwaizumi-san. It's kind of hard to pick out, isn't it? Hm, Iwaizumi, Iwaizumi, Iwaizumi," he muses thoughtfully. Iwaizumi feels his eyebrow twitch, and Oikawa's eyes light up, and he snaps his fingers, pointing at Iwaizumi.

"Iwa-chan!"

Even though he barely knows him, Iwaizumi debates picking up the barbell and launching it at the ass. Suddenly, his phone vibrates and he pulls it from his pocket, glancing at it.

"Oh hey, Kuroo, I have to go. I've got to meet Matsukawa to practice," he mutters, and Kuroo nods and stands, wiping the sweat from his forehead using the back of his hand.

"Alright, man. See ya later," Kuroo says, as they clap their hands together. Iwaizumi swings down to grab his water bottle before nodding at Oikawa in acknowledgment and turning to make his leave but not before he hears Oikawa say, "So, Tetsu. We need to talk."

\--

"Why me?!" Kuroo demands, outraged. "You're the setter. Why can't you teach him yourself?"

Oikawa sniffs and tilts his head away from the middle blocker. His hands clench into fists, hidden in his crossed arms pose. "Because Tobio-chan needs to improve on other skills that aren't setting." Kuroo throws up his hands in exasperation. "The boy is doing fine! He can hit a pretty damn good straight, and his blocking is not bad."

"'Not bad' isn't enough! Don't you get it? We need to go to nationals this year. 'Not bad' isn't going to cut it! Settling for mediocrity means we've already lost." He softens his tone, "Look, you're our best middle blocker, and that's why you're a regular. Tobio-chan—," his tone hardens into steel, "is talented enough to become a regular for the team."

Kuroo's frustrated expression melts into something like pity, and he crosses his arms. "You know, you're weird."

Oikawa looks up, and Kuroo continues, "You hate the kid—don't deny it—but you also care for him in some weird, twisted way."

Oikawa looks away for a moment before turning back to Kuroo, his mega watt smile plastered on his face. "You should drink more water. Dehydration does bad things to your head." Then he turns and abruptly strides away from the taller man.

\--

"Do you really want to do it again?" Matsukawa pants, letting the violin and bow fall to his side as he slumps onto the chair. "That song is, what, ten minutes?"

"About twelve to thirteen," Iwaizumi corrects him, as he rolls up his sleeves. "And don't blame me for being tired. You're the one who picked this piece."

"That means I get the right to choose how long we practice," Matsukawa groans, carefully placing the bow onto the stand, "and I say we end this now."

They're interrupted by a tentative knock on the door, and the two students send each other curious looks. Matsukawa sighs in relief at the potential break he might receive.

Iwaizumi pushes back from the bench and stands, heading for the door. Glancing through the small window, he frowns as he opens the door. "What are you doing here?"

Oikawa takes a large step into the room, completely ignoring Iwaizumi and throwing Matsukawa a large smile. "Mattsun!" Then he turns to Iwaizumi, "Iwa-chan!"

 _Iwa-chan?_ Matsukawa mouths at Iwaizumi before snorting into one hand.

"I thought I'd find you two here!" He places his hands on his hips, and Iwaizumi cocks his head, staring at a silver-haired young man standing at the door. Oikawa notices this and turns, "Kou-chan! Here are the two I was talking about. This," he gestures at Matsukawa, "is Mattsun! And this," he turns with a flourish, "is Iwa-chan!"

The young man smiles at them warmly, hesitantly. "I'm Sugawara Koushi." Iwaizumi nods in greeting, "Iwaizumi Hajime."

"Matsukawa Issei," Matsukawa calls from his chair.

"Kou-chan here is an art major and needs some inspiration for his next work," Oikawa says and waves for him to enter the already crowded practice room.

Suga blushes and says, "Sorry for the intrusion, but I was hoping I could use you two as an inspiration for an assignment. Oikawa highly recommended you, Iwaiz—"

Oikawa coughs loudly, "The both of you! Both of you together is great. Makki told me." Suga's kind smile takes on a sly turn, and something seems to click in his head.

"Right, he recommended you two to help."

"What's the project?" Matsukawa asks, and Suga shuffles his feet nervously, "Art within art."

Matsukawa scoffs, "Kind of vague, isn't it?"

"It should be fine," Iwaizumi interjects and motions for Suga to shut the door. He does so and sits in the corner of the room, opening his large sketchpad and digging through his bag to find his materials. Matsukawa groans and stands. "I guess we _do_ have to practice again."

"Lazy ass," Iwaizumi comments as he sits back down on the bench. Stretching his arms forward he cracks his fingers and wiggles them in preparation for the song to come.

"What song are you playing?" Suga asks.

"Romance for piano and violin by Dvorak, opus 11."

\--

Oikawa settles near Matsukawa, but his eyes latch onto Iwaizumi, taking in the way his muscles flex as he stretches out. He's not going to deny it. Seeing Iwaizumi with his sleeves rolled up is much better than seeing him in a tank top at the gym.

"When you're ready," Matsukawa calls lazily as he swings up the violin to hold between his jaw and his shoulder.

A quiet melody fills the room as the pianist gently taps on the keys, notes combining to form a tender song—a story, and Oikawa's breath halts as he's riveted to the spot. The music is slow and bell-like as it dances lithely in the air, twirling and dipping, movements becoming more and more powerful as it becomes louder and louder before suddenly dropping to a whisper. The process repeats itself, but the pitch deepens as it gives way to the violin's powerful presence. With that, the piano becomes the background, leaving the spotlight for the violin's control over Dvorak's song.

The two parts dance around each other, like flower petals that have fallen and are now spiraling around each other in the breeze on a clear spring day. Then it gradually becomes hushed, a whisper amongst two lovers sitting under the moon. Suddenly, it becomes frantic, the violin's melody becoming panicked but calmed as the piano soothes away its pain.

Oikawa's eyes flicker over to Suga whose jaw is slack and eyes are wide, pencil lying limply in his hand. The sketchbook is forgotten in his lap. Then he turns his gaze back to Iwaizumi, who glances over at Matsukawa, and somehow they both nod at each other without breaking pace. They turn back to the music sheets, and Oikawa feels a flash of jealousy mix into his awe. The fact that two musicians can feel so connected and united tugs on his emotions, and he pouts.

Soon enough, the song is over, and the two musicians breathe a sigh of relief.

"My fingers are flayed," Matsukawa groans, throwing his bow onto the stand and slumping onto the seat. Iwaizumi swings around on the bench to face Suga.

"Did that help?" he asks, and Suga blinks, mouth opening and closing, speechless. _Same_ , Oikawa thinks. _Same._

Matsukawa cranes his head at the sketchbook.

"You didn't even start?!" he exclaims, and Suga sits up, scrambling for his pencil. "My fingers—they've been flayed for no purpose. Oh, the pain," he wails. Iwaizumi throws him a look that would shut anyone else up, but Matsukawa just grins lazily and sets the violin in his lap.

"Sorry, sorry," Suga apologizes, and Iwaizumi waves it away.

"It's fine. If you guys hadn't come in, he," he jabs a thumb towards the violinist, "would have just complained cause he's a lazy asshole."

"A talented, lazy asshole."                                   

"Actually," Suga stands, the sketchbook clutched under his arm, "can I get your number?"

Iwaizumi's eyebrows shoot up in surprise and Oikawa's twitch in irritation. Matsukawa whistles and wiggles his eyebrows. Everyone pauses for a moment before realization dawns on Suga, and he frantically shakes his head and hands, dropping everything onto the ground.

"Not in that way! I was just wondering if I could come in to listen to your practice sessions. I was just—distracted? I mean, that was the first time listening to you guys, and it was great! It was beautiful, but I didn't really get anything drawn, and I don't mean to intrude or anything. I don't want to be a bother either—"

Iwaizumi holds out his phone, silencing the artist. Suga takes the phone and types in his number, fingers stumbling over each other.

"Same here!" Oikawa exclaims. Iwaizumi turns to him, one brow raised. "Why do _you_ need my number?"

"Iwa-chan," Oikawa says, ignoring the way Matsukawa snorts, "I already gave you a nickname, which means we should exchange numbers!"

"Ok," Iwaizumi shrugs and hands over his phone while taking Oikawa's out of his palm. Oikawa grins triumphantly and types in his number. Then he takes a quick selfie, setting his contact photo. When he gets his phone back, he mutters, "Aaaaand, saved as Iwa-chan!"

"All right, Shittykawa." Matsukawa bursts out laughing and Suga muffles his laughter with his hand. Oikawa jerks back, offense written on his face.

" _Shittykawa_?! How could you, Iwa-chan?"

Iwaizumi smirks. "We exchanged numbers. It's only fair we exchange nicknames too."

"He's got a point."

"Shut up, Mattsun."

"Shittykawa."

"I said, _shut up_ , Mattsun."

He huffs indignantly and heads toward the door, hooking his arm around Suga's and dragging him out of the room. Once safely away from the door, he unhooks his arm, and Suga stumbles a bit.

"So, Iwaizumi?" Suga asks slyly.

"Shut up," he answers abruptly, but he smiles anyway.

He's got Iwa-chan's number, and that simple fact makes him almost as happy as winning a volleyball game.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, I post randomly. Surprise! Also, any questions, comments, you know where to find me. Oooooh, also, I suck at posting regularly :D but I've written half of chapter 3, and each chapter seems to be getting progressively longer and longer, which I'm not used to AT ALLLL. Anyway, enjoy!


	3. Moderé sans lenteur

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Iwaizumi gets to see what an owl looks like.

_[Oikawa]:_ Iwa-chan! Are you busy later? :D

_[Iwa-chan]:_ Practicing later. What do you want?

Oikawa bites his bottom lip, wondering how to phrase his question. For some inexplicable reason, he just wants to see Iwaizumi.

_[Oikawa]:_ Suga needs to hear the song again tonight!

"No I don't." Oikawa jumps, turning to see Suga reading over his shoulder. "Don't you know it's rude to read other people's messages?"

Suga grins, flashing his wide smile at Oikawa's slowly reddening face.

"Not if it concerns the person in question," he twists away as an alien plush comes flying at him. Oikawa grumbles a little and scrambles for his phone as it vibrates.

_[Iwa-chan]:_ Matsukawa's busy tonight. We won't be able to play Romance. Tell him we say sorry.

"Hm, I'm guessing from your face that he said no?" Suga teases as Oikawa visibly wilts on his bed. Stuffing a pillow to his face, Oikawa mutters something, and Suga cautiously leans in closely.

"What was that?" He cups his ear.

"I—Iwa-chan—again." Those are the only words Suga hears. Sighing impatiently, he tears the pillow away from Oikawa and holds it up high as the latter grapples for it, tugging at the corner.

"Just ask him to hang out!" he exclaims and Oikawa cries, "NO, I don't even how he feels about me. Like is he annoyed by me? Or is he ok with being friends or—? I don't know!"

"Then ask Matsukawa," Suga exclaims, and they both stop tugging. Given the chance, Oikawa tears the pillow away from Suga and hugs it to his chest, scooting closer to the wall.

"No, he'll just make fun of me." Oikawa pouts. Suga sighs and sits on the edge of the bed. "Well, would you rather know and be able to hang with Iwaizumi and be made fun of forever? Or would you rather never know and be made fun of anyway? Which sounds better?"

"My pride and dignity sound better," Oikawa sniffs and stuffs the pillow over his face, refusing to answer anything else. He hears a sigh, and the weight on his bed is lifted. Silence fills the room, and Oikawa peeks out from the corner of his eye.

"What are you doing?"

"Texting Iwaizumi," Suga replies easily, and Oikawa suddenly leaps up from his bed and jumps toward his roommate.

"Kou-chan noooooo!" he wails loudly, and Suga laughs, easily dodging him and racing out of the room. Oikawa follows in pursuit, nearly slipping on the alien plush he had thrown earlier. Reaching the hall, he runs to his neighbor's door and pounds on the wood, knowing Suga would take refuge there.

"Mattsun! Makki! Let me in! I know Kou-chan's in there!" He hears sniggering from behind the door and knows that they're housing the refugee. "Guys, I thought we were friends."

"That's exactly why we've locked you out," Hanamaki calls from within his room. A burst of loud laughter on the other side of the barrier startles Oikawa, who's slumped against the door, face pressed against the cool surface, fist uselessly hitting the wood. Suddenly, it gives way and Oikawa falls in with a loud, "Oof."

"Well, well, well. Look at that, Suga. You might have broken him—in spirit, of course," Hanamaki says, crossing his arms with an amused grin adorning his face. Suga's louging on Matsukawa's bed. Speaking of, the violinist himself isn't there.

"Where's Mattsun?" Oikawa wheezes. Hanamaki shrugs, "He's always gone at this time. Practice, most likely." He stares down at a gasping Oikawa. "So, what brings our volleyball captain and his lovely roommate to my humble abode?"

"Shut up, Makki," Oikawa says, sitting up with a large exhale. Suga snickers, and he looks down when his phone vibrates.

"Oooh, Oikawa, we should go to practice room 104," he says, devious expression a dead giveaway for what he's plotting. Oikawa narrows his eyes, "Why?"

"A certain pianist says he can help me with the project," Suga says, much too casually, "But I need to get all of my supplies ready, so you should definitely go first. I'll meet you there."

"Why can't we go together?" Oikawa demands, heart speeding through road bumps and stop signs. Suga shrugs, "You already know I have a ton of crap to bring with me. So why not go first? Tell Iwaizumi I'll be there right behind you."

Oikawa nods, still weary. His suspicions are raised when Suga smiles innocently from Matsukawa's bed, comfortable with no intention of moving, and Hanamaki wiggles his eyebrows at him suggestively.

Yes, Oikawa has a bad feeling about this.

\--

Iwaizumi glances at the clock again. Suga _did_ say that he would be there by seven. A loud growl emanates from his body, and he clutches his stomach. Ah damn, he _did_ forget to eat earlier. He groans and rests his arms on the piano keys gently, making sure they don't make a chaotic blast of cacophony. Then he rests his head on his folded arms, debating whether to text Suga back to postpone their meeting.

A hesitant knock reaches the pianist's ears and he grunts, "It's open. Come in." He hears the door swing open, and it hits the wall, creating a loud _bang_ that startles him from his position.

"What—" He turns and freezes when he sees that it's Oikawa, who's staring at him with wide eyes and a hand outstretched in front of him.

Iwaizumi groans, "Of course, you would do that, shittykawa."

"Mean, Iwa-chan! Mean!" Iwaizumi glances at the space behind Oikawa and notices the lacking presence of a silver haired artist. He narrows his eyes.

"Where's Suga? And why the hell are you here?" Oikawa gapes at him, mouth flapping open and closed. He shakes his head, curls bouncing with his movements.

"Kou-chan said for me to come first, then he'd be here right after me!"

Iwaizumi nods slowly with a cocked brow and gestures around the room. "Well, feel free to just take a space."

Oikawa nods and moves so that he's sitting on the ground next to the piano. Iwaizumi glances over at him from the corner of his eye, gaze resting on the alien t-shirt almost hidden by the large cardigan covering his body.

"Have you ever been to a volleyball game, Iwa-chan?" Oikawa's voice breaks the stifling silence between them. Their gazes meet, and Iwaizumi asks, "Why?"

"Just curious."

He shrugs, "No, I haven't. Kuroo invited me a few times, but they were always during practice sessions, and to be honest, it's not too interesting to me." Oikawa winces.

Maybe that was too blunt.

"I don't know, Iwa-chan. I'd consider seeing one game before you graduate. Give it a chance. You never know until you try." Iwaizumi hums, going back to leaning against the piano. His stomach growls again, and he feels the tips of his ears burn.

"Sorry," he mutters. He can feel Oikawa's gaze on him. "Have you eaten?"

Iwaizumi sighs. "I will after playing a piece for Suga. Where is he by the way?" Oikawa lifts his phone, "I'll text him."

Suddenly a loud J-Pop song blasts from Oikawa's phone, and they both jump. Startled, Oikawa scrambles to answer, nearly dropping his phone.

"Hello? Kou-chan?" Oikawa breathes, and Iwaizumi watches him.

"Wait—what do you mean you can't make it?" Iwaizumi feels his temple throb and his stomach protest loudly for food.

"Um, I'll ask him, though I'm not sure if that'll be ok," Oikawa says, glancing up at Iwaizumi. Covering the mouthpiece, Oikawa asks, "He wants to know if it's ok for me to just record you and meet with you another time."

Iwaizumi's brows furrow, and he rubs the space between his eyes. "I guess, why not?"

"He said it's ok. Erm, ok. All right. Bye."

They're both quiet.

"Uh," Oikawa's large eyes meet with Iwaizumi's green ones. "Sorry. He said something came up, and that he's sorry for making you wait."

Iwaizumi sighs loudly and sits up, back still slumped from exhaustion. "It's ok, let's just get this over with. Tell me when you're recording."

Oikawa taps a few times on his phone and puts it on the ground, nodding at Iwaizumi.

The pianist takes a deep breath, resting his fingers on the cool, familiar ivory keys. He presses down gently, feeling the song lift into the existence, light and airy. The bass part serves as a foundation and keeps the two in the room tethered to the earth whilst the treble part sings. Soon it switches back and forth, a dance between two melodies. There's a pause, and it continues, a minor tone coming into play, still gentle and uplifting, yet with an undertone of melancholy, which turns joyous rapidly. The song twists and turns, changing from one form to another, though its feather-light presence stays as a constant presence.

Finally, Iwaizumi exhales as he plays the last few notes, laying the piece to rest. He stays in position for a moment before allowing his hands to fall onto his lap. Turning on his seat, he freezes as he sees that Oikawa is staring at him, chocolate eyes wide, jaw slack, and slumped forward, leaning towards him. They stay like that for a while, staring at each other, until a growl resonates across the room.

Oikawa twitches, as if woken from a dream, and clutches at his stomach, laughing hesitantly.

"You haven't eaten either?" Iwaizumi asks. Oikawa scratches the back of his neck, "Not really. I skipped lunch cause I went to practice. Ah!" His head shoots up, and he stares at Iwaizumi earnestly.

"Iwa-chan, since we haven't eaten yet, do you want to grab something to eat?"

Iwaizumi stares back, and he enjoys the way Oikawa fidgets nervously when he doesn't answer immediately.

"Sure," he finally answers, and Oikawa grins widely, leaping up from his spot and stuffing the phone hazardously into his pocket.

"Let's go, Iwa-chan!"

\--

They choose to go to the ramen shop close to campus.

Oikawa feels his heart race with elation as he falls into step beside Iwaizumi. He wonders briefly why he's so nervous, quickly dismissing it for the admiration of being able to hang out with a high caliber pianist. It's been a while since he's admired someone who isn't a volleyball player.

"What song was that?"

Caught off guard, Iwaizumi whips his head around to look at him.

"What was that? Sorry, I wasn't paying attention. Kinda out of it right now."

"What song was that?"

"Oh, Novelette in C major. Moderé sans lenteur. The first one by Poulenc, so it should be easy to find." Oikawa is struck at the way Iwaizumi pronounces these titles so smoothly.

"How can you say that so easily?" Iwaizumi looks at him in confusion. "I mean, you say these names and titles so fluently even though it's a different language."

"Ah. That's cause I've been learning pieces since I was taught to walk. My parents just pushed piece after piece at me until I learned them well. You could say that I've just been exposed to them for a while. How much further is this ramen shop, idiotkawa?"

"Not much further. You know, Iwa-chan, patience is a virtue." Oikawa's not going to tell Iwaizumi that he's taking them the long route despite the both of them starving. They walk in silence before seeing the glowing sign that signifies that they've reached the ramen shop. When they step through the sliding door, both students breathe in the smell of freshly made broth, and funnily enough, both stomachs growl simultaneously.

"God, I'm starving," Iwaizumi groans and takes a seat at a booth. Oikawa follows suit, sitting across from him.

"Well, Iwa-chan, we've come to the right place! This place has the best ramen on campus." He beams brightly at Iwaizumi, who pays more attention to the menu.

When they give their orders to the waitress, who Oikawa charms with a smile and ends up walking away dazed, they enter a comfortable silence. Oikawa observes as Iwaizumi holds his straw with his long fingers to take a sip of the water, while the other hand taps out a pattern, a specific rhythm.

"Even when away from the piano, you practice?" Oikawa asks. Iwaizumi lifts his gaze, green eyes piercing. Then he looks away, "I guess. It's just a habit."

Suddenly a force hits Oikawa's shoulders, and his right arm hits the table hard. Grunting with pain, he turns up to see bright golden eyes and wild grey and white hair, giving the person the appearance of a horned owl. Behind him is a slim man with delicate features, who at the moment, is wearing an exasperated expression as if he deals with this too many times a day to count.

"Hey, hey, hey!" Bokuto exclaims, "Look at that, Akaashi! It's the volleyball captain!" His voice is loud as it carries throughout the shop, earning a few glances thrown their way. He notices Iwaizumi and throws out his hand in greeting, wide grin adorning his face.

"Bokuto Koutarou! Ace of the team," he declares proudly. Iwaizumi takes his hand, "Iwaizumi Hajime. Not on a team, but I play the piano."

"As a hobby?" the young man behind Bokuto asks, interest lighting up his eyes.

"Ah, no. I'm a piano performance major."

Bokuto turns and grabs onto the young man, dragging him in front of the table.

"This is Akaashi! Akaashi—this is Oikawa! And that's Iwaizumi!"

"Thank you for the introduction, Bokuto-san," he says patiently and turns his gaze onto the two at the table, "I'm Akaashi Keiji. Nice to meet you."

"I'm Oikawa Tooru."

"Iwaizumi Hajime. Sorry to pry, but do you play as well?" Iwaizumi asks, and Akaashi nods, "I did when I was a kid. But not anymore. I'm doubling in history and literature, so it's just a hobby now. But I still love the music."

He turns to look at Oikawa, and his eyes widen fractionally when he notices Oikawa's tight smile. "We've taken up enough of your time. Excuse us," he says as he grabs Bokuto by the arm and drags him away, ignoring the torrent of protests coming from the Ace.

The two at the booth watch them leave the shop, and Iwaizumi turns back to Oikawa, who nearly groans out loud. Was he really _that_ obvious?

"They seem like nice people," Iwaizumi comments.

Oikawa shrugs, "Bokuto's really easy to get along with. He can get moody though. The littlest things can bring him up or down. Once he got upset because he said a friend didn't show up to the practice match. I'm assuming now that the 'friend' was Akaashi? Dunno. Oh, look! I think that's our order."

Their food finally arrives, cutting off all conversation as their focus diverts to the ramen. Yup, the broth is as fresh as ever. Perfection. When finished, Oikawa slumps into his seat, hand rubbing his stomach, and sighs in satisfaction. Iwaizumi finishes up with a loud slurp and sighs softly.

"That ended too soon," he mutters, glaring down at the broth like it's the reason he has no more noodles. Oikawa can't help but smile, finding Iwa-chan's furrowed brows and concentrated expression adorable. Wait, adorable? He shakes his head wildly, and Iwaizumi catches the action.

"What?"

"Huh, oh no worries Iwa-chan, I'm just sad it's over  too."

\--

Iwaizumi ignores the rest of Oikawa's odd and eccentric behavior and stands, stretching his arms out and then patting his stomach. After paying, they both leave and walk in silence.

"Where are you headed?" Oikawa asks, breathing in the night air deeply, and Iwaizumi points in the direction of one of the dorms. Oikawa starts. "Oh! I live in the building next to that one!"

Iwaizumi nods, head cloudy and sleepy after having consumed the food. He's ready to just knock out in bed. They spend the rest of the time in silence with the exception of Oikawa's humming. Iwaizumi resists the urge to tell him he's a little flat. Finally, they reach the area where they split off, and Iwaizumi turns to Oikawa.

"Hey, thanks for introducing me to the ramen shop. That was good."

"It was my pleasure, Iwa-chan!" Oikawa averts his eyes and cocks his head, "Sorry about Kou-chan though. I thought he'd show up..." His voice trails off as he shuffles his feet nervously. Iwaizumi smiles, cocking his head, thoughts clouding up with sleep, "It's all ok. Just tell  him to text me or message me if he needs help." Oikawa looks up, and he freezes, eyes wide.

Iwaizumi's smile slides off his face and his thoughts clear up just a tad bit, more alarmed than before. He straightens a little.

"What?"

Oikawa blinks owlishly, and then he smiles softly, different than his usual mega watt smiles. Iwaizumi is struck by the tenderness and how much more attractive Oikawa is, light smile on his face and figure silhouetted from the dorm lights behind him. Well, even before, Oikawa was deemed attractive (there's a reason why he has such a large fan club), but at this moment, he looks indescribable.

"Unfair, Iwa-chan."

Maybe it's the haze in his brain, but Iwaizumi resists the heat climbing up the back of his neck as the words tumble from Oikawa's mouth like a caress. He clears his throat, "All right, I'm gonna go to bed. You should too."

"Are you my mom?" Oh, well, the moment is shattered. Wait—what moment? Ugh, he really needs to just go to bed. Hopefully, Kuroo's already asleep. Unlikely, but he can still hope. Turning on his heel, he waves and starts for his dorm.

"Good night, Shittykawa!" he calls and grins at the indignant squawk that comes from behind him.

"Fine! Good night, Iwa-chan!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! So yeah, hi!


	4. Mocha Frap and Green Tea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Oikawa becomes a student.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm still alive, no worries. Also, no music in this chapter.

"Fuck!" Oikawa swears as the teaching assistant hands out his grade. Another failing grade. If he gets another, he'll fail the class entirely. The TA gives him a look of pity, and Oikawa feels his anger skyrocket. He hates the pitying looks, the fleeting glances of sympathy when others _just don't get it_ , especially those sent his way when his team lost the finals to go to nationals in high school.

"Look, I'd suggest talking to the professor. He's a pretty chill guy. Just go to his office hours or something. Shoot him an email if you can't make it to those times," she says, and he stuffs the paper angrily in his bag. Damn this class. Damn literature. Who even came up with this stupid subject.

As he walks away grumbling, his shoulder knocks into another student and causes their things to fly out of their hands. Great, more misfortune to add to his growing pile.

"Sorry," he apologizes as he bends down to pick up the books and papers. Handing them over, he looks up, and to his immense surprise (and pleasure), it's Iwaizumi.

"Iwa-chan?"

"Shittykawa?"

They both stare at each other for a moment before Iwaizumi takes the outstretched books with a muttered, "Thanks."

"I didn't know you had Intro to Lit!" Oikawa chirps happily, falling into step with him. Iwaizumi looks up at him and sighs, "Yup." One of the papers slips from his hand, and Oikawa stoops to catch it. Taking a glance, he jerks back.

"You got a 98 on the paper?!" he exclaims. Iwaizumi snatches it away from him and snaps it into his book.

"Shut up! Why are you so loud, Idiotkawa?"

Oikawa ignores the insult and opts to stare at him with wide eyes.

"You got a 98, when the class average was a 63." Iwaizumi's ears burn red, and he grabs his collar, pulling him down.

"Why the fuck are you so loud?" he hisses. Surprised, Oikawa can only stare at him—then an idea pops into his head.

"Iwa-chan! Tutor me?" He sees the hesitation and rejection in his eyes, and whines loudly, "Pleaaase!" Judging by his actions, he's about to say no, so Oikawa tries another method.

"TUTOR ME, IWA-CHAN. IF YOU CAN GET A NINETY—" A hand clamps onto his mouth. Iwaizumi's eyes are wide with irritation and barely suppressed rage.

"Goddammit Shittykawa! Fine, I'll tutor you. Fucking hell," he curses, and Oikawa internally cheers, but then feels a small spark of guilt when he remembers how long the pianist holes himself up in the practice room. _This is for Iwa-chan's good. He needs to get out more_ , he thinks, nodding sternly. He successfully squashes the little bit of guilt that has flared up in his chest.

"Let me see your paper," Iwaizumi holds out his hand. Oikawa falters for a bit, hands tightening on the strap of his messenger bag. He must have looked terrified because Iwaizumi scoffs.

"Look, if you need me to help you, I need to see how you're doing." Reluctantly, he reaches into his bag and pulls out the crumpled piece of paper. He smoothes it out before giving it to him, head hanging in shame.

"Oh."

_Oh, indeed._

"You're going to need a lot of help." Oikawa snatches the paper away from him and shoves it into his bag. Plastering his smile on his face, he turns to him.

"What are you going to do now?"

Iwaizumi shrugs, "I don't know. I'm done for today. Maybe I'll go practice? Get food? Don't know. I don't have much due this week." Oikawa beams and grabs onto his arm, pulling him out of the building.

"Oi, where are we going?" Iwaizumi asks, slightly stumbling as Oikawa weaves through the crowd of students.

"It's a surprise!" When he starts to protest, Oikawa clicks his tongue in disapproval. "Like I said Iwa-chan. Patience is a virtue. In fact, it's a very nice trait to have, though I'm sure a brute like you wouldn't understand that."

A kick to the shin causes Oikawa to howl in pain, but he persists and carries on towards his goal, hooking his arm around Iwaizumi's more tightly.

"The gym?" Iwaizumi asks, both eyebrows climbing with surprise. "What are we doing here?"

"Silly, Iwa-chan," he ignores the glare shooting at him, "You're here to witness your first volleyball practice."

"I'm leaving."

Oikawa grabs Iwaizumi's arm, pulling him forward, "Nope! You get to watch a practice match. Well, not really, but I'll drag you to one when we get the chance."

"God, Oikawa, I could be doing other things," Iwaizumi protests, and Oikawa whirls around, planting his hands on his shoulders. Calmly and firmly, he says, "Iwa-chan, give it a chance. Just once. If you don't like it, I won't force you to come ever again. But if you do like it, even just a teensy bit, then give it a chance." His eyes search green ones, and they maintain eye contact before Iwaizumi breaks it, looking away.

"Fine."

Oikawa throws a fist into the air, "Yay!" and proceeds to drag him through the large double doors.

\--

"Iwaizumi?" Kuroo's eyes widen as they make contact with the pianist slouching against the wall. "What the fuck are you doing here?"

Iwaizumi snorts, "Your captain is persistent."

Kuroo leans in close, a sharp smile slicing across his face, and crosses his arms, "Oh? Is that so?" Iwaizumi looks away, "He said I could leave if I didn't like it."

"Well, this is something. I spend almost two years trying to convince you to come to a game, and yet," his roommate slaps the back of his hand to his forehead dramatically, "with the snap of his fingers, Oikawa can get you to come." He wiggles his eyebrows and leans even closer to whisper, "in more ways than one."

Iwaizumi shoves Kuroo's face away. "You're disgusting."

"But you love me."

"I _endure_ you, asshole."

Suddenly, Iwaizumi's breath is knocked from his lungs as he's tackled to the ground by a familiar face.

"Iwaizumi!" Bokuto exclaims as he wraps his arms around him like a vice. "How're you doing, my man?" Iwaizumi gasps and wheezes out, "Just suffocating."

The ace releases his grip on him and steps back placing his hands at his hips. "Come to watch practice today? Akaashi's here too." Iwaizumi looks over his shoulder to see the exasperated young man, who makes his way over. Iwaizumi moves over, and Akaashi sits next to him.

"Sorry for that," he says, and Iwaizumi blinks in surprise, "Oh, no worries. I may have a broken rib, but I think it'll be fine." At that, Akaashi cracks a smile, and they turn their attention at the two men standing in front of them.

Kuroo claps Bokuto's back before slinging his arm around his shoulder, the both of them wearing identical grins. "Enjoy the practice!" They echo each other and Iwaizumi finds himself smiling amusedly at the two. He would have thought the two were brothers if he hadn't lived with one half of the duo for two years.

Suddenly, Bokuto squats down to eye level with Iwaizumi, and he leans in closely, "Take care of Akaashi. Make sure he isn't hit by any flying strays." Then he pulls away and flashes a blinding smile at Iwaizumi before turning to shoot a tender smile at Akaashi. Suddenly, Oikawa's voice calls for the team and Kuroo and Bokuto run off to join their teammates.

"What did he say?" Akaashi asks, voice laced with curiosity. Iwaizumi turns towards him and answers, "Nothing much."

They fall into silence as they watch Oikawa give a pep talk to the team huddling around him. Iwaizumi sighs, the curiosity getting the better of him, and he turns to the young man sitting beside him.

"Are you and Bokuto—?" The question trails off, giving him leeway to his answers. Akaashi shrugs, giving him a small smile, "That depends on what you think. Some think we're just best friends, like most of the team. Others are more perceptive, like you. The both of us—we have to stay a little secretive because you know—"

Iwaizumi nods, understanding that homosexual relationships in sports are still taboo to some extent. Akaashi looks away, and Iwaizumi follows his gaze, falling on the exuberant ace.

"But yes, I do love him, if that's what you're wondering." Iwaizumi's eyes widen and his jaw slackens, not expecting such a blunt answer from the seemingly reserved young man. "Do you ever worry?"

Akaashi shakes his head, raven locks bouncing with the movement, "There's some extent that we have to worry about. But other than that, I don't care." He locks his gaze with Iwaizumi. "I don't care that we're both men. I care that what we have is real. Gender doesn't matter in this case." He opens his mouth to respond when—

"Iwa-chan!" A frantic shout causes Iwaizumi to look up and instinctively put up his arms, curling his fingers into his fist, as he feels the ball forcefully collide with him, ricocheting into the air.  Suddenly, there are hands all over him, and he looks up to see Oikawa  anxiously checking for injuries.

"Are you ok?!" he asks, grabbing Iwaizumi's hand and lifting his fingers for inspection. "Can you still play? Are you hurt anywhere?" Iwaizumi tries to intervene, but Oikawa is persistently searching for injuries, and he loses his patience, pushing him away.

"I'm fine!" he shouts, because what else can he do to snap Oikawa out of it? The captain falls back onto his hands and stares at him with wide eyes.

"I'm fine," Iwaizumi repeats, tone much softer. He can't blame the guy for getting worried when a stray ball comes for an inexperienced civilian.

"Thank god, Iwa-chan," Oikawa sighs, sitting back on his hands. The worry is still very evident in his eyes, and Oikawa gives him a small smile. Kuroo runs up behind Oikawa and leans down, "Christ, Iwaizumi, you ok, man? That stray ball came at you hard. Are your hands ok?"

Iwaizumi groans, "Yeah, yeah, I'm ok. I might not do sports, but I do have some reflexes. You guys should get back. And tell everyone to stop staring." Oikawa stands, and the duo stare down at him, making sure that he's actually all right. Iwaizumi motions for them to go, and they turn, but not before Oikawa shoots him one last glance.

"That might bruise." Iwaizumi turns his attention to Akaashi, who's staring at the point of impact. In all honesty, Iwaizumi expected that the moment he entered the gym. He figured there might be an injury (or more) involved. He didn't expect it to happen so soon.

"It's fine. I expected that," he says as he turns back to the practice. They fall into a comfortable silence, breaking it occasionally as Akaashi explains who each player is and what their positions are. Then he explains the plays and the various methods.

"Do you come to these often?" Iwaizumi asks, eyes trained on Oikawa, watching the way he leaps up with grace to set the ball to Bokuto, who slams it down with brute force.

"No, not really. I only started coming recently. Volleyball's the only thing Bokuto-san talks about really," is the quiet answer Iwaizumi receives. "Also, I played in high school, so I know how the technical things work, but not all of their plays. I have to rely on him for those."

"Which position?"

"Setter." Suddenly, a thought occurs to Iwaizumi, and he turns to him, "Wait, you played volleyball in high school _and_ played the piano?"

Akaashi shrugs, "There were a few injuries. But it got to the point in my third year where I had to pick between the two, and I chose volleyball. Speaking from experience, they're not that different. Volleyball and music, I mean. Ah, I think they've finished. They're stretching."

Iwaizumi turns his gaze towards the team. His mouth dries when he sees Oikawa lift his arms into the air, shirt lifting to reveal a sliver of pale skin. Swallowing thickly, he stands with Akaashi, and they both stretch from sitting so long. Thank god because he's sure his ass would have gone numb if he had stayed sitting for another hour.

"How was it Iwa-chan?" He turns towards the source of the voice and his mouth sets into an automatic scowl. "It was interesting enough." Undeterred, Oikawa positively beams, and Iwaizumi relocates his gaze.

"Go shower. You stink."

"Mean, Iwa-chan, mean!" Oikawa squawks, though he doesn't actually sound mad. "I'll only be gone for a moment!"

Iwaizumi huffs, and leans against the gym wall with his arms crossed. His face falls into a series of straight lines when he notices Kuroo and Bokuto making their way over, drenched in sweat and both wearing shit-eating grins.

"So how was it?" Kuroo asks, falling into the same position as Iwaizumi, as Bokuto scoops Akaashi up in a large hug despite the latter's desperate protests. He nods, "It was interesting enough, though you smell horrible."

"That's what the showers are for."

"Then why aren't you there?"

"Most of us wait until Oikawa's finished."

"Is it just awkward? Or—"

Kuroo snorts, and the sound is amplified in the large space. "No, his singing is enough to deafen a normal man. Only brave souls venture into the showers with Oikawa."

Bokuto, who'd apparently overheard, nods vigorously in agreement, placing Akaashi down, much to the latter's relief.

At that, Iwaizumi cracks a smile. _Interesting._

\--

Oikawa exits the locker room, gym bag slung over his shoulder, and he feels his smile brighten at the sight of Iwa-chan leaning against the wall. When he notices who he's talking to, his smile slips from his face, turning into a scowl. Quickly, he makes his way toward the quartet.

His scowl deepens when he hears a sigh from Kuroo that sounds suspiciously like "Finally." The middle blocker and ace both make their way to the locker room, and Kuroo turns to walk backwards, shouting, "I'll see you later, roomie," as Bokuto lets loose a loud laugh that echoes around the gym. Iwaizumi says a quick goodbye to Akaashi, and the two exit the gym, falling into step with each other.

"What are you going to do now?" Oikawa's eyes flicker to Iwaizumi, who shrugs.

"We have something due tomorrow for lit, don't we?" At that, Oikawa throws back his head and groans.

"I completely forgot."

"Of course you did, Shittykawa." Suddenly, he whips around to stare at Iwaizumi with wide eyes. "Tutor me now?"

Iwaizumi scoffs, and Oikawa pouts. "You're serious?" Iwaizumi asks, incredulity evident in his tone. Oikawa beams and nods. Iwaizumi keeps narrowed eyes on the volleyball captain, and Oikawa fidgets nervously, heart pounding as he waits for an answer.

"We can get coffee! My treat," he blurts out, and Iwaizumi sighs in resignation.

"I don't need coffee this late." Oikawa lowers his head and purses his lips in thought.

"But I'm up for some tea." At that, his head snaps up to stare at Iwaizumi, who has a small smile tugging at his lips. Looping his arm around Iwaizumi's, he drags him towards a quaint cafe hidden at the corner of campus.

Pushing open the door, Oikawa welcomes the fresh scent of ground coffee beans, the ring of the bell as the door easily slides open, and the faint murmur of not-really-studying college students. They pause in front of the menu, and Iwaizumi grunts, "Just green tea is fine. I'm going to go look for a seat."

Oikawa practically skips to the counter and places their orders and turns to see that Iwaizumi has chosen a seat in the corner of the shop, away from the chatter. Oikawa grins—typical Iwa-chan. Soon, he grabs their orders and makes his way to where Iwaizumi has already started to type on his laptop.

"Here you go," he chirps, setting down the green tea carefully on the table. Iwaizumi barely glances at it, nodding to let him know that he had heard him.

"What did you get?"

"Hm? I got the mocha frap!" He holds out the drink and Iwaizumi takes a small sip, face scrunching up.

"God, that's sweet. How do you not have diabetes?"

"Aww, Iwa-chan is worried about my health?"

"Shut up. I'm more worried for your team's hearing." Iwaizumi smirks triumphantly. It takes a good moment for that to process, but when it does, Oikawa's face curls into offense.

"Did—Kuroo—? They told you?" he splutters, face burning, and he's sure he's turning an interesting hue of red. Iwaizumi takes a quick sip of the tea, looking over at him with raised eyebrows and piercing green eyes.

"What? I meant with all the yelling that happens during matches and from your coach, I'd be a little worried for your hearing as well," he says casually, but Oikawa hears the teasing undertone and pouts, wondering where all his own confidence has disappeared off to.

"Of course!" he exclaims, setting down his drink and pulling out his laptop. He knows that trying to play cool isn't working when Iwaizumi is observant to anything that's relevant to Oikawa's embarrassment, so he tries to change the subject.

"What's our assignment again?"

Iwaizumi's face quickly gives way to exasperation and he flips his laptop around so that Oikawa can see the screen.

"We're working on an assignment on poetry. Remember the one we read today?" Oikawa racks through his brain and comes up with nothing, which apparently shows on his face because Iwaizumi reaches over and flicks his forehead.

"Did you pay attention today? Do you even try in that class?" he sighs, tone annoyed, but Oikawa picks up that he doesn't actually mean it.

"It's not my fault I don't like the class. I like my other classes just fine. I mean, lit is just an elective," he pouts.

"What do you even study?"

Oikawa perks up, happily taking the chance to switch topics.

"Astronomy!"

Iwaizumi's eyes widen fractionally in surprise. "Really? I would have pegged you to be marketing or advertising." Oikawa tilts his head. "What makes you say that?"

Iwaizumi shrugs. "You're charismatic." It's a statement, something said casually, rather than a compliment. Oikawa feels heat climbing the back of his neck, which stops when Iwaizumi tacks on, "and you're loud and annoying."

"Iwa-chan! How could you?" Iwaizumi ignores this and points towards the computer screen.

"So today, we read this," he points at the poem, "and we're supposed to write what we think the poem is about." Oikawa's face blanches, and he feels it scrunching into annoyance.

"Don't make that face, Shittykawa. It only has to be two pages long." Oikawa groans, slumping on the table.

With great effort, Oikawa pulls himself up and digs through his backpack to grab his laptop. Cracking it open, he quickly connects to the wifi and pulls up the assignment. Giving the poem a quick skim, he wonders how he got himself into such a hard literature class.

"What do you think?" Iwaizumi's question pulls him back into reality, and he says, "It's a poem on love?" It comes out more as a question than a statement.

"Yeah, good start. What else?"

"There are flowers?" Oikawa is surprised Iwaizumi hasn't snapped at him yet. He nods and motions for Oikawa to continue.

"Do the flowers represent the poet's lover?" Iwaizumi turns his laptop away from Oikawa and starts typing. He hums as he sips his tea, "You have a good start, so go off of that."

Determined to impress his tutor, Oikawa takes a large gulp of his drink and begins to write, the words coming out faster and easier than he had anticipated.

After all, if you're going to hit it, hit it until it breaks.

\--

Iwaizumi peers up from his laptop at the man sitting in front of him, eyelashes casting long shadows onto his cheeks as he types on his laptop, eyes squinting as he tries to analyze the poem in front of him. He wonders how this all started, with Oikawa literally falling into his practice room and how his life went downhill from there.

As he observes him, he wonders how he could be so—pretty is the only word that pops into mind. Oikawa's features are delicate, from the way his cheekbones are structured to the way his hair flops into his face, causing him to push the brown locks out of his sight.

Oikawa looks up from his intense concentration and his eyes meet Iwaizumi's.

"Did you already finish, Iwa-chan?"

Iwaizumi nods and motions to his laptop, "I finished twenty minutes ago. You?" Oikawa purses his lips and says, "I finished one and three quarters of a page, so I'm almost done. Can you read over it when I finish?" Iwaizumi nods and sips his tea, pulling a face when he recognizes that it's now at a lukewarm temperature. He scrolls through the PDFs of his music library, trying to pick out which song to play tomorrow. In the middle of mentally playing Chopin's Nocturne Op. 27 No. 2, his laptop screen starts swaying back and forth, and he looks up to see Oikawa tapping at the cover.

"Iwa-chan, I've finished."

Iwaizumi shuts his laptop and puts it to the side, sliding Oikawa's toward him. He skims the paper and is impressed at how deeply Oikawa's thoughts are regarding the poem. There are a few mistakes, but overall, the ideas and evidence are presented thoroughly.

"This is good," he mutters, scrolling as he rereads the paper. "There are a few grammar mistakes, and this one section here needs a bit of clarification," he highlights the paragraph, "but overall, this is good. Give me a second to edit it." When finished, he turns it back to Oikawa and slides it towards him, but his actions falter when he notices how Oikawa has perked up considerably, face proud as he beams at Iwaizumi.

"What?"

"Nothing. Thanks Iwa-chan. I owe you one," he says as he leans over to reread over his work, paying attention to the highlighted marks Iwaizumi has made on his paper.

Iwaizumi pauses, mentally weighing the costs and benefits of tutoring Oikawa. The cons seem to outweigh the pros, but then he realizes he doesn't care. He _likes_ spending time with Oikawa.

"I don't mind," he starts slowly, glancing away when Oikawa looks up from his paper, eyes shining with curiosity.

"Hm?"

"Tutoring you, I mean." He waits for the jab that Oikawa probably has ready for him. When it doesn't come, he looks up to see a fond smile gracing his face. He feels his ears heat up, and he averts his eyes.

"Thanks, Iwa-chan." Iwaizumi is certain the back of his neck is now a horrible shade of red.

"You really are a tsuntsun, aren't you?" Oikawa tacks on.

"No," Iwaizumi bites out, and they're back to witty remarks and relentless teasing.

When they finally leave, it's already dark outside, and they make their way to the dorms, taking their time to stroll through campus. Iwaizumi's baffled at the amount of time they spent at the coffee shop, talking to each other and bantering like old friends. Despite Oikawa's charismatic demeanor, he finds that the volleyball captain is a lot deeper than his first impression.

They both reach the dorms, and Iwaizumi finds that he doesn't want to end the conversation with Oikawa, despite wanting to slap him upside the head half the time they're chatting. Finally, they part ways, and when he reaches his room, he flops onto the bed, ignoring Kuroo's shit-eating grin and lazy comments.

"How was today?"

"It was fine." His voice is muffled by the pillow he's stuffed his face into.

"Have a nice date?"

"Shut the fuck up, Kuroo."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I post late, BUT I promised to post before the end of the year. Also, please come scream at me about Iwaoi and Tensemi on tumblr!

**Author's Note:**

> I'm at shrimpyboke.tumblr.com if you have questions or comments! (Or just want to talk--I'm always up for making new friends~)


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